


Solstice Bells

by AwkwardAnnie



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardAnnie/pseuds/AwkwardAnnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Solstice night Raffles, as usual, still manages to surprise me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice Bells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missmollyetc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmollyetc/gifts).



> Yuletide treat for missmollyetc, who expressed a desire to see Raffles' and Bunny's relationship be a little less one-sided. For maximum sap, I strongly recommend a soundtrack of Enya's "Dreams Are More Precious".

I have learned many things in my long association with Raffles. Most of these things he taught me, such as the difference between pin-tumbler and lever-tumbler locks and the methods of picking or circumnavigating both; how to cross a gravel path silently in the dead of night; the average resale value of white diamonds; or how to attend a formal ball and dance as though I had not a care in the world while at the same time taking note of the movements of five different dignitaries and the seven different routes of escape. Others I had to learn for myself, like how to smile while I was teased and laugh when I was insulted; how to forget grievances and forgive sins; and that sometimes words are not said, not because they are not meant but because they are too precious to waste.

I have also learned how to open a trap door from beneath while carrying two mugs of steaming cocoa and a very large and heavy fur pelt (it involves the use of one's forehead and I leave the construction of an appropriate pun as an exercise for the reader). I put this knowledge to use and climbed out onto the roof above Raffles' studio off the King's Road with only a very small amount of the cocoa redistributed over my cuffs. It was a cold night in the depths of December; the stars were shrouded and my breath puffed from my mouth like fog. My friend was already perched on the edge of a chimney-stack with a blanket around his shoulders, and he looked up as I approached.

"Hot cocoa, milord," I said, handing him one of the mugs.

"Ah, just the ticket! Well done, that man." He peered at my furry burden. "What on earth have you got there?"

"Found it at the back of your costume collection." I sat down next to him with my own mug. "I think it used to be a bear, or quite possibly two bears."

"Good heavens. Yes, now that you mention it, I do have a vague recollection of it. Can’t imagine what use I thought I’d have for it. Well, come now, don't hog it all to yourself!"

After a few moments of tense negotiation we managed to arrange the fur around us like a small and hairy tent within which we huddled. I had been surprised when Raffles had suggested a midnight trip up the ladder to the rooftops, not to steal or pry but merely to sit and watch the city sleep. I'd always classified that sort of scenario as hopelessly romantic, which is to say that I loved the thought of it but had believed that my friend would not only hate it, but tease me just for the idea.

"I can't say I care much for winter," said I. That was almost the truth; I was more than prepared to tolerate its presence so long as I was allowed to spend it beside a roaring fire or, failing that, in bed—in both cases, preferably with genial company.

"Ah, but the long nights are a boon to our profession, are they not? It's the solstice tonight, if I'm not mistaken. What a night for two such as ourselves to set to work, eh?"

"But we are not at work," I observed.

"No," said Raffles after a slight pause. "No, I thought it would be nice to have the evening off, as it were." He sipped contemplatively at his cocoa. "I say, this is jolly good."

"Thank you. I added a dash more milk than last time."

"Excellent call. Well nigh perfect, in fact, although it could do with a nip of something stronger." He winked at me.

"I thought you might say that." And here I reached into the pocket of my jacket and pulled out the last item I had brought up from below. "Brandy seems appropriately festive."

"My dear lad, you are a gentleman and a scholar." He took the bottle from me and added a dash to my mug and a rather larger portion to his own. We sat in silence, warm beneath the thick fur, sipping our drinks, until I felt compelled to speak.

"AJ," I began carefully. I had come close to broaching this particular topic on several prior occasions but on each I had backed out at the last instant. I was determined that this would be the time. "Do you recall when we were at Lord's–"

"I should think so, but you will need to be a mite more specific than that, my boy."

"Let me finish! I forget who was playing but we were watching from the pavilion." I took a gulp of my cocoa, narrowly avoiding burning my tongue in my anxiety, and plunged on. "You talked about moving to the country. About retiring."

Raffles was silent for some time. "So I did," he said eventually.

"I was wondering," I said slowly to give my brain some precious additional seconds to arrange the next sentences properly. "Do you still think about what you said? About your plan?"

"Don’t fuss,” said he. “I know what you're thinking because I’ve been having similar thoughts lately. How does Surrey sound to you? Obviously I can't condone their cricket but they do a wonderful rendition of the picturesque little country village. I'm sure we could come up with some appropriate cover story to explain our living together. Perhaps you're my long-lost half-brother, or my doctor, or my gardener—Bunny, why the dickens are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" But I knew full-well what my face was doing at that moment and was powerless to stop it.

"Like I've performed a miracle. And no, for God's sake, don't tell me that I have."

I shut my mouth sheepishly. He gave me a pitying look.

"Bunny, you really do need to get rid of this ridiculous idea of yours that I'm going to up and leave you one day. It's deucedly tiresome but more than that, it's insulting. You can't possibly think that I'm the sort of man who confesses his—need I remind you— _exceptionally_ illegal love for another man and then disappears off to France or Australia or where-have-you never to be seen again, can you? I may be a thief and a scoundrel of the first water but I am _not_ and never shall be an outright cad. Besides, if anyone should be leaving, it should be you. I treat you wretchedly at times; it would be the least I deserve. So yes, assuming that we both make it to our later years without either of us getting shot or stabbed or locked up for life, and assuming too that by then you still haven't come to your senses and realised how perfectly awful I am, I would very much like to spend those years in a cottage in a country village with a good pub, a village green and _you_."

I sat through this entire passage silent with shock. Raffles, as I have said before, is not fond of talking things out, nor of expressing sentiment of any kind. For him to voluntarily open up to me like this was uncharacteristic in the extreme while at the same time utterly wonderful. For a while I was speechless.

"I'm not going anywhere, AJ," I said at last, placing a hand on his knee. "Not unless you tell me to leave. And probably not even then, for that matter. I would follow you halfway around the world if I had to."

He smiled gently. "Do you know, I believe you would. I'd probably have to fake my death in order to escape you."

"Don't you dare!" I warned half-seriously. "I've no wish to end up the Romeo to your Juliet."

"No, perhaps not; I would look a right fool in a farthingale!” He laughed, his previous grim mood gone in an instant. “Besides, I haven't a balcony from which to soliloquise effectively. _O Bunny, Bunny, wherefore art thou Bunny?"_ he proclaimed gleefully with a tremendous grin, brandishing his half-empty mug.

"Because children are cruel and adults are nostalgic," I replied. "Now, give me that before you spill it all over yourself."

"Don't worry, old sport, it's quite cool now." And he drained the mug in one and made a face as he set it down beside him. "I may, however, have overdone the brandy. Ah well, we can't have it all." With that, he curled against me with his head on my shoulder, reminding me not for the first time of an overgrown cat, and I had no choice but to wrap my arm around him and tug our blankets tighter about us.

“Do you think it will snow before the weekend?” I asked. “I would so love a white Christmas.”

But the only response that I received was a slight snuffle. Not content with his uncharacteristic display of sentiment, the confounded man had taken it upon himself to fall asleep on me. I was glad he couldn’t see the expression of ecstatic delight on my face—I have always been the epitome of a romantic fool.

Somewhere nearby, a church clock began to toll midnight, and I sat there and listened to the sound of distant bells as the city (and Raffles) slumbered on. I think that of all the things I have learned from my dearest friend, the most important is that sometimes it is better to say nothing at all.


End file.
